History Repeats Itself
by bethanyyerinn
Summary: Merlin's got a destiny, according to a certain super-vague dragon hiding in an abandoned tube station. But when Merlin finds out that it's to do with a clotpole footballer, he's less than happy. Modern AU, High School AU, a bit of Coffee Shop AU, and Merlin Has Glasses AU (because I have a glasses kink). Merthur.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**I told myself that I wasn't going to post any of the chapters of the fics I've been working on until I'm done with the entire fic. I apparently lied to myself. **

**Basically the only thing I need to say is that in this modern universe, the Arthurian myths aren't famous. In fact, most people have never heard of them. That will make sense when the time comes.**

**Rated M for inevitable sex in the future. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Merlin's last class of the day ended, and though he had work in ten minutes when Albion Coffee House was thirty minutes away from his school, he was in no hurry. He just had to find somewhere away from any people, and he'd be there in no time.

"Merlin!" He turned at the sound of Gwen's voice. He grinned at her and her smile widened. When she was closer, she said, "You have work?" He nodded. "And you're getting there…" She looked around, leaned in, and then whispered, "You know. With…"

"Yeah," Merlin said, keeping from rolling his eyes. Yes, magic was illegal and she had to be careful about where she said it, but it would probably be less suspicious if she had just said it rather than looking around like she had a guilty conscience. It was also funny that she felt the need to ask every day, since he always got to work with magic.

He hadn't told her about his talents. She'd figured it out the moment they met, nearly four years back, when she tripped over something and Merlin instinctually caught her before she would have likely broken a bone or two. It was lucky it was her he accidentally saved, because if it were any other stranger, they might have turned him in. But Gwen only decided he was an all-around decent person who was worth being friends with, if he would risk his own safety to help someone he didn't even know. Now they were both in their last year of high school and they'd been through almost everything together.

"You should just get a car, Merlin," she said reproachfully.

"Then I would have to get the later shift. You know as well as I that I need the money. Mum just doesn't make enough on her own. Don't act like you don't understand that."

She nodded. She was in the same place. She and her brother had worked alongside their father for years, so he could get more done and thus make more money. Neither of their families were well-to-do, but they managed.

"Would a half hour kill you though?" she asked, sounding less sure of herself.

"Probably not," Merlin said. "But I do everything I can."

"I just don't want you caught. You know the reward Pendragon offers for any word of sorcery."

Merlin did roll his eyes this time. The town he lived in was positively medieval, the way it was run. Even Ealdor, which was much smaller than Camelot, had been less strictly governed. There was a single man in Camelot that controlled everything, and if you wanted to get anywhere in town or in the surrounding towns, you had to do it through him. His men were everywhere, for the sole purpose of searching for magic. Merlin was starting to wonder if Pendragon didn't control half of England by now. It was all money and status, not him deserving the power. The mayor of Camelot was a friend, all the businesses in the area were invested by him somehow…

Merlin missed Ealdor. While magic still was frowned upon, like it is in many places, it was at least legal. But his mother got Merlin a position at Camelot High, which was a rather prestigious place, and a job, and wanted him to go live with an old friend of her's, Gaius. He sent her money when he could, because he knew she needed it. She meant well sending him to Camelot, so he didn't complain.

When he graduated, he could leave. Maybe go to London, where magic was used freely. Who cared what the Great Dragon said about his destiny being here? What the hell was a destiny, anyway? Kilgharrah always had his own reasons for saying the things he did. Even if the dragon was almost an old friend to Merlin, and one of Merlin's only connections to his late Dragonlord father, he was certainly a self-serving creature.

It was ironic, how Camelot made magic illegal, but it wasn't until Merlin moved here that he truly learned to understand his powers, both through lessons from Gaius and through the wisdom of a certain dragon. A dragon which dwelled underneath the city itself, locked in by Uther Pendragon. Uther thought he could control the creature, but being stuck in one place did not mean he was powerless. Because Merlin found him.

If Uther hadn't have kept the dragon there, Merlin wouldn't be able to learn from it. He was obviously far too sure of himself. It was probably suicide to say it, but he privately hoped that someday, that arrogance could make Pendragon lose his hold on Camelot so magic could be used freely. It wasn't any specific animosity towards the man… but was it so much to want to be free to be himself?

* * *

Merlin was lost in his thoughts, to the point that he had gone through the next half an hour of his life on auto-pilot. He didn't remember saying goodbye to Gwen, or travelling to work in a wink with a spell he got from a book that Gaius had lying around, or dressing in his apron, but there he was, cleaning one of the blenders at Albion Coffee House. The shop was small and in the evenings, only he and Lance worked. It was never busy in the evenings. They'd get customers, sure, but there might be hours at a time when nobody was in the shop at all. This was one of those times.

Other than Gwen and Gaius, Lance was the only one who knew about Merlin's magic. Merlin hadn't told him, but he hadn't obviously shown him like he had with Gwen either. Lance just had this sort of… intuition. He was an interesting fellow, both a jock and a nice guy, both nauseatingly attractive and uncommonly kind. Needless to say, Merlin and Lance were quite close from working together for so long.

So when Merlin shook his head and looked to Lance, he smiled. "Merlin, you always have your head in the clouds."

"The clouds are more interesting than the blenders, I guess."

"Yes, I suppose they are."

Merlin went to spray more Windex on the plastic lid on the blender, but it was caught. He whispered at it in an old tongue and tried again. It worked. While he was at it, he took off his ridiculously thick (both the rims and the lenses) glasses and cleaned them too.

Lance chuckled, and only then did Merlin realise he was still standing there.

"What?" asked Merlin as he put his glasses back into place on his nose.

"With all the power you seem to have, it seems a waste to use it on faulty Windex bottles."

Merlin looked at Lance more seriously. He looked around, making sure the shop was still empty. The only person there was a boy from their school, named Gilli, who often sat in the corner and did his homework. He hadn't gotten a drink yet because he didn't let himself until he finished one assignment. He wasn't likely to hear Merlin from over there, so he said, "You remember meeting that dragon underneath the town?"

"It would be hard to forget a thing like that, Merlin."

"He told me… well, he told me I have a destiny. That my magic will have a use someday."

"And what is that destiny?" asked Lance.

"I don't know. Kilgharrah has an obnoxious need to be vague all the time. He just told me that I will make England a better place, and that I can't leave Camelot until I've accomplished that."

Lance's eyebrows knitted together. "Have you thought of leaving?"

"Sometimes," Merlin admitted. "I mean, there are places in England where I can use my gifts freely."

"Places? You mean London? That's about it, at this point."

"There's more than that, farther south."

"Barely," Lance replied. "Pendragon is powerful, and his fear of magic is spreading. It seems every few months, another city is outlawing it."

Merlin honestly didn't pay much attention to politics like that, but he suddenly decided maybe he should. If what Lance said was true… maybe Merlin would have nowhere he could be himself by the time he finished school.

Merlin's mouth set in a frustrated frown. "What's he got against me and my people anyhow? What did we ever do to him?"

Lance sighed. "I don't know. But hey, maybe that's your destiny that the dragon talks about. Making Pendragon see reason."

"Right. Like a Pendragon could ever see reason."

"Hey, his son isn't so bad. We were on the football team together." Lance used to be on the team, but now he worked and didn't have time for training.

"Oh, yeah, calling him a footballer makes me think _so_ highly of him."

Lancelot raised an eyebrow and said, without any real venom, "I'm a footballer. Well. Have been."

"Well, yeah," Merlin agreed, "but you're an exception to the rule."

"You don't really know any of them, Merlin." Again, he didn't really sound angry. Maybe a little disappointed, which was worse. Like Lance never thought Merlin could be so prejudiced. "Don't be so quick to judge."

Merlin shrugged. He only didn't know them because they didn't let anyone near them. Merlin had really only seen the backs of their heads anyway, so what was there to like. He knew Lance because he worked with him, but they didn't hang out at school. That's just the way it was. High school could be very archaic, if you got right down to it. There were the elite and the commoners, and they just didn't mix. And the most elite of the school was Arthur Pendragon, none other than Uther Pendragon's own son. Merlin had never seen him, not really. Merlin was in the honors courses and Arthur wasn't, and there was no other place for them to interact. So if Uther was King, Arthur was prince. See? Archaic.

Merlin was lost in his head again, because when he was going to respond to Lance, he was already by the espresso machine, wiping down the counter.

"Don't be cross with me," said Merlin timidly.

Lance looked up with a kind smile. "Merlin, I'm not angry. It's just that you're one of my very good friends, but so are the football guys. I wish you didn't dislike each other."

"What, they talk about me?"

"Well, not you in particular."

"So they're a bunch of prats, just like I said."

Lance was looking at Merlin disapprovingly again. "They just don't get to know anyone outside their own social circle, and thus say things even when they have no proof to back it up. Which is the same thing you're doing right now. They're no worse than you."

Lance didn't say it unkindly and didn't mean to offend, but still Merlin felt like it was a slap to the face. Lance was such a good guy, hearing him say something like that about you hurt.

"I've got to take out the recycling," said Lance, and he went out the door with some boxes.

Merlin stood at the counter, looking at the spotted gray and black counter thoughtfully. Merlin had never thought of himself as judgmental. But was he?

Then, like fate itself was listening into his pondering, a boy walked in. He vaguely recognised him as someone who went to his school. Specifically, as a footballer.

And then he looked over at the boy sitting and doing his homework. Gilli was tall and gangly, much like Merlin. Merlin had never paid him much mind, other than to make him coffee, but now he watched the scene that unraveled before him.

"You should really eat more, you know," said the boy who had walked in, who was blond and bulky. "Girls don't much like the rail-thin look."

Gilli paid him no mind.

"Hey, I'm talking to you," barked the blond boy. Merlin's curious look turned into a glare.

"Excuse me," Merlin said pointedly. "Can I get you anything?"

"No," the blond said, not turning to Merlin. Merlin walked around the counter as the blond said more insulting things to Gilli.

"Excuse me," Merlin said again. "I won't let you insult our customers. I'd be happy to make you a drink, but otherwise, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

The blond finally spared him a glance, his eyes a piercing blue that made Merlin's stomach inexplicably roil. The scowl on his lips was so hateful, however, that Merlin didn't have time to pay the sensation much mind before he was glowering himself.

"Do you know who I am?" asked the other boy threateningly.

"Sure I do. You're a big, fat prat."

Merlin said it before he realised he said it. Sure, he'd have no problem saying it any other time, but he was at work. He couldn't say that when he was working. He could easily get fired for it. But he couldn't take it back now. His pride wouldn't let him apologise when the boy so obviously deserved the title.

The blond's look of hate grew fiercer, to the point that if Merlin were less thick-headed, he might have considered that he was in real danger. The other boy stepped closer. "How dare you speak to a Pendragon that way?"

Merlin's stomach dropped out his arse. He half-expected to see a mess on the floor where he shat it out. This… this was Arthur Pendragon. A boy who easily had the power to ruin Merlin's life. One word to his father and Merlin might get expelled. Merlin had already said enough to lose his job—without Arthur complaining to his daddy, either. If he didn't go to Camelot High and didn't have a job, he'd have no reason to stay. He'd have to go back to Ealdor.

But wasn't that better than here anyway?

But Kilgharrah's words came to him. _You have a great destiny, young warlock. You need only the patience and wisdom to discover it._

He had to stay in Camelot. This idiot footballer could destroy everything.

But that didn't make the thought of apologising any more attractive. So he just glared, his fists squeezed together at his sides.

A hand clapped onto his shoulder and he almost jumped. It was Lance.

"Merlin," he said warningly.

"He was harassing a customer," Merlin said mechanically.

Lance looked at Arthur, who surprisingly looked a little timid. Maybe Lance made everyone feel inadequate, even the great Arthur Pendragon. "Arthur, you can't do that. I won't allow you to stay if you're here to be cruel to our other customers."

It wasn't so different from what Merlin had said, but this time Arthur just looked down, a little ashamed for half a second. Then he looked up again. "Yeah, okay, maybe I was out of line, but this—this _kid_ just called me a prat! And he works here."

_"Merlin,"_ Lance said again, but this time he just sounded exasperated.

"I have half a mind to talk to the manager of this place and report him," continued Arthur.

"Hey, Arthur, don't do that—" Lance said.

"But," continued Arthur, "I suppose I could forget to mention this to the manager or my father… at a price."

Surely the price would be something pretty horrible. Maybe he and some of his footballer friends would beat him up.

But Merlin had to stay in Camelot. For his destiny's sake.

So he sighed. "Alright. What do you want?"

"Come to the locker rooms at lunch tomorrow."

Yeah. That sounded like a good place for he and his mates to beat him senseless. But still, Merlin asked, as if he didn't already know, "For what?"

"Come and I won't tell anyone about this," Arthur continued. "Don't… and my lips won't stay sealed for long."

"Arthur," Lance cut in, but a glance from Arthur was enough to shut him up too. Merlin couldn't blame Lance either. He had this… this _look_. Like his word wasn't to be questioned. He had a hard time imagining anyone trying to defy the boy. Well, other than Merlin himself. He was hard to shut up.

"Do you agree or not?" Arthur said.

Merlin kept looking at Arthur, thinking about all the things he could do to Arthur. He could take the whole football team, if it came down to that.

And did he really have a choice?

So Merlin nodded once, and Arthur turned on his heel and left.

It took Merlin a long moment to even speak, he was so angry. "Why did he even come here if he didn't want a drink?"

"Merlin, that was stupid of you," scolded Lance.

"He was being a prat and I told him so! How was I to know he was Pendragon's son?"

"Because everyone knows that," inserted Gilli. "But… for the record, I appreciate you cutting in." Merlin's eyes caught movement in his peripherals, and he looked down to the table, where Gilli was fiddling with a ring. There was a symbol on it… a symbol of the Old Religion. "But I could have dealt with him without you getting yourself into trouble."

Lance could be trusted, of course, but Merlin didn't want to out a fellow sorcerer, so he just said, "Yes, I'm sure you could have. But I wasn't going to let him be mean in my shop."

"But it's not your shop," said Lance. "And you could still get fired over this."

"I'll go meet him at lunch tomorrow. It'll be fine."

"Don't go, Merlin," said Lance.

"What, I thought the footballers weren't so bad," said Merlin with his eyebrow up.

Lance looked at the ground. "They… they have some growing up to do. Arthur especially. But there's good in him that you can't see at first glance. He just…" Lance sighed. "I'm afraid what will happen if you go."

"But I can't afford to get kicked out of Camelot High, or fired from my job. So I don't have any other options. Don't forget that I'm not useless. I'll be okay."

Lance sighed again, and he gave a chuckle that held no mirth. "I hope for your sake that you're right."


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin got off work and, as he often did, headed the opposite direction from his flat. Though he could use his teleportation spell to get anywhere, he preferred walking if he had the time, so he strolled towards the abandoned tube station where Kilgharrah the dragon could be found. Merlin used to only go to him for lessons, but he'd gotten into the habit of going to him just to talk. Or sometimes not talk at all, just sit there and soak in the presence of someone who was like him. He'd met other people with magic, like Gilli today, but none of them felt like kin the way Kilgharrah did. Like their magic came from the same place, like they both were in a world they didn't quite fit in. Merlin never noticed when he started looking towards the dragon as a friend, but steadily he visited more until it became an occurrence more than three times a week.

"You are troubled today, young warlock," said Kilgharrah.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Oh, nothing important. I had the displeasure of finally meeting Arthur Pendragon today."

Merlin was more than surprised when, after a pause where the dragon—if Merlin didn't know any better—looked bewildered, he began to laugh heartily.

"Er… what's funny?" asked Merlin, but Kilgharrah continued to laugh for another minute.

"Oh, Emrys," said the dragon, using the name Merlin still didn't understand other than that people with magic tended to call him it, "I knew it couldn't be much longer."

"Longer… until… I don't understand what you mean."

Kilgharrah was still kind of laughing a little, so it took him another long moment to actually respond. "Your destiny, Emrys. Always we are working towards our destinies, and every choice we make only brings us closer. You have found the beginning of your purpose, young warlock. From now on, each and every thing you do can cause the future to be brighter than ever before… or darker than you can imagine."

Oh good. More riddles.

"I don't understand," repeated Merlin. "My destiny… has something to do with Arthur Pendragon?"

"Something to do? Young warlock, he has everything to do with it."

Merlin gaped at the dragon. "How?" he asked, accidently sounding defensive and/or disgusted.

"Merlin, he _is_ your destiny."

Merlin stared up at the dragon with a rather blank look on his face, blinking slowly. "You've got to be kidding me."

"There is no kidding to be had, young warlock."

Merlin plopped down on the ground, grunting in frustration. Kilgharrah had to be wrong. How could that prat-git-clotpole-prick have anything to do with Merlin's destiny? Or anyone's destiny ever? He didn't have the brain capacity to handle that kind of responsibility.

Merlin brought his jean-clad knees to his chin and picked at the little hole in his red converse.

"How the hell could _he_ be my destiny? Seriously, he's an idiot."

"People can become smarter."

"And he's… he's cruel," Merlin added, his voice more morose.

"And maybe you are meant to change that."

Merlin looked up at the dragon with a glare, as if it were his fault for telling the truth (AKA: killing the messenger). "How the fuck is _that guy_ my destiny? It doesn't even make any sense!"

Kilgharrah looked at Merlin in the reproving manner that he always did when Merlin used that type of language. Once he'd said something about never in his two thousand years being as disrespected as he was when he spoke to Merlin.

But this time, he said something strange. "You know, you held your tongue a little better in the olden days. Though the key part of that sentence was 'a _little_'…"

"What are you talking about?" asked Merlin, a little impatiently.

Kilgharrah gave a heavy sigh. "I suppose you won't leave me alone until I tell you the story."

Merlin said nothing, showing with his face that he wanted Kilgharrah to continue.

"Merlin, The Old Religion sometimes works in ways that even I don't understand. Sometimes things happen that I can't fully explain, that I've never seen before. This… is one of those times."

"Oh yeah?"

Kilgharrah was quiet, almost as if he were trying to figure out what he should say. Which was strange indeed, because he _always_ knew what to say. "To put it in the simplest terms, Emrys… More than a millennium ago, there was a group of people that were meant to change the world. The most important of which were a king and his servant. But then the king died, much to the servant's dismay. And after that, the servant lived alone, and never was able to create the world he was meant to, because his king died and made it impossible. The servant lived for a thousand years—"

"A _thousand_?" asked Merlin. "What, was he a dragon too?"

But the dragon ignored Merlin's comment and continued, "—and then died himself, probably more from a lack of will to live than anything else. Having only me for company stopped soothing him after a few centuries…" The dragon looked pensive for a long moment, like he were in another world, but then he shook his massive head and continued, "You see, their mission was to bring peace to the world by making magic a part of ordinary society. The hatred of it died down over time, but sometimes became worse, such as the Salem witch trials. But for a long time, magic was a myth rather than fact. It was less than a century ago when people began to realise magic was a real part of their world. And then, half a century ago… Uther Pendragon was born. And then I knew The Old Religion had found a way to get a second chance at making the world it wants."

"Uther Pendragon? Why does some stupid business man have to do with some people that lived more than a thousand years ago… or any of this, for that matter?"

Kilgharrah was quiet again, but then said, "The servant's name… was Merlin."

Merlin blinked.

"The Druids and others of the Old Religion called him Emrys. And the only way he could make the change he needed to was through his king… King Arthur."

More blinking from Merlin.

More silence.

Merlin was wringing at the bottom of his red zip-up pullover subconsciously.

"So," Merlin started, without realising he was saying it, "You're telling me that me, Arthur, Uther… we're all… what, reincarnated?"

"Not just you. Guinevere, Sir Lancelot,"—not that either of those names sounded familiar to Merlin, but he didn't say anything—"even Gilli from your place of employment. Everything is in place, and it is your second chance to do what the last Merlin could not: create Albion."

"Albion? Like the name of the coffee shop?"

"You did not get a job there on accident," the dragon said. "So do you understand now? You—"

"Wait," Merlin said. "You're telling me in a past life I was Arthur's _servant_?! I would _never_ work for that pompous arsehole!"

"Merlin, of all the things I said—"

"Imagine, that piss-pot bossing me around! Did past-me have magic too? If so he—or I—whatever—he could've beat past-Arthur to a pulp."

"_That_ Merlin was just a smidge more sensible!" said Kilgharrah in frustration. It made Merlin go silent, and the dragon sighed again. "He had reservations when I told him too, just as you do. He was probably your age then too. Arthur had fought him in the market."

"Sounds like him," muttered Merlin.

"And he was sure I was wrong. But he learned, as you will. And maybe you'll be a better listener, since I like to think you and I are friends."

"You and he weren't?" asked Merlin, having calmed down a little.

"After some time, yes. But when I told him his destiny, we hardly knew each other. And… I was different then. I thirsted for revenge that clouded my intentions. I learned as much from him as he did from me."

Merlin kept looking at Kilgharrah. "So… are we really the same person? Am I just like him?"

"Not exactly the same, no," mused the dragon. "You being raised in such an accepting time has made you even more hard-headed." He said it fondly, so Merlin smiled. "But you share the same kindness, the same wisdom." Merlin's smile got shy, but he said nothing. "He was the greatest sorcerer who ever lived. And so will you be, with time. And with Arthur at your side."

Merlin still wasn't sure about that part, but he didn't say anything about the dragon being wrong this time. "So I still don't really get what he and I have to do with each other…"

"Arthur lives a more dangerous life than you may suppose. His father Uther makes many enemies, and Arthur is becoming just old enough for people to take it out on him instead of his father. So your job is to keep him alive long enough to make the change you must."

"_Alive_? People are trying to _kill_ him? Then again, with him being such a prat, I guess it's not that weird…"

"Merlin," said Kilgharrah, which shut him up again. "I've told you enough. You know in your heart the truth."

It was an invitation to leave. Which he got from the dragon a lot, right around the time he started getting too snippy. So Merlin nodded and walked out, heading home.

"Home!" Merlin called when he walked in.

Gaius didn't answer, which meant he was already asleep. It was almost midnight, after all.

So Merlin made his way to his room when he saw the light on in Gaius' office.

Gaius used to be a doctor, but he retired and now he worked in what he called 'alternative medicine'. Stuff made only from herbs and things, supposedly better for you than modern medicine. Merlin hardly knew a thing about it, because the whole thing bored him to tears. But on his free time he mostly read everything about everything ever, so Merlin was unsurprised when he opened the door and found Gaius asleep at his desk, his face smashed into some giant book. He was too old to do that type of stuff.

"Gaius, come on, got to get in bed," said Merlin gently, shaking him a little.

"Oh, Merlin," he said when he woke up. "I've been doing this more and more lately," he mumbled.

"Yeah, I've noticed that." Merlin then thought of something. It probably was silly, but he couldn't help but ask. "Hey, in all the reading you've done, have you ever come across the story of a King Arthur?"

He expected Gaius to look confused, but… no, there was something else to his expression.

Recognition.

"Actually, yes," he said after a moment.

"Really?" asked Merlin, sounding a little too enthusiastic.

"I came across it only recently. I haven't even gotten around to reading it. I found it at this magic shop in London when I visited recently." He stood up and looked through his bookshelves. "It's written like a diary. It's hand-written and everything. Ah," he added when he found it. He opened the first page and read, "The Adventures of King Arthur, by Em… Em-something…"

Merlin stared quietly. "Emrys?" he asked after a long moment.

"Yes, that must be it. Have you heard of him? I thought it might be a penname."

"Erm…" Merlin didn't even know how to answer that one, so he just said, "Can I borrow that?"

"Of course," Gaius said, looking completely suspicious. "Merlin, is there something you need to tell me?"

"No, Gaius," said Merlin, in his I'm-totally-a-good-liar-(not) voice. But, as usual, Gaius didn't press. He just kept staring knowingly with that one eyebrow up, and Merlin walked out, feeling the gaze on his back like a brand as he shut the door. He went to his room, throwing off his pullover and plopping down on his blue comforter. He looked down at the book.

By Emrys.

In a way, he wrote this. Not, like, _him_, but… yeah, him.

Wow, being reincarnated was confusing.

Well, he had a lot of reading to do if he wanted to know what to expect from tomorrow. This was a really long book for a journal.

He sighed. Page one…


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin had murky dreams about himself in a grand castle, wearing an ugly neckerchief and making food for a certain spoiled prince… but most of the dream featured him smiling, oddly enough. Merlin wasn't sure why past-him had any reason to smile… but then again, it was only a dream.

He didn't think much in the morning other than to decide if it was a day for a red shirt with a blue jumper or a blue shirt with a red jumper. He didn't have much variety in his clothes other than that, just a pair of red converse and a few pairs of jeans, all varying degrees of ripped thanks to him being rather clumsy and most bearing bleach stains from work. He thought about wearing contacts that day and then shrugged and shoved on his glasses, which made his eyes far too small for his face in the mirror. It was just a pain to wear his contacts was all, which was why he hadn't worn them in ages.

He was up so late reading Emrys' journal that he was almost late, so he ended up using that spell again to get to school on time.

When he saw Gwen in class, he couldn't help but look at her differently. Because it didn't take long for him to realise that the 'Guinevere' Kilgharrah had mentioned was actually just Gwen. And in the journal… she was married to _Arthur_. According to Emrys—AKA past Merlin—past-Gwen loved a Sir Lancelot before she even got to know Arthur. He privately thought that maybe she should've chosen that guy instead. In this version of events, Merlin could only assume Lancelot was none other than his buddy Lance. As far as he knew, the two didn't know each other. Maybe, just to save Gwen from Prince Prat, he'd introduce them.

"You look pensive this morning, Merlin," Gwen noted.

"It's been a strange tweny-four hours."

"You'll have to tell me about it."

"It would take ages to explain."

"What about at lunch?" she asked.

"Uh, actually, I have plans at lunch," Merlin said, his stomach lurching nervously at the thought of what his lunch break might be like. "Maybe if you come to the shop with me after school, I can tell you while I work. I'd like you to meet my friend Lance anyway."

No reason he couldn't kill two birds with one stone, right?

"Yeah, sure," she said with her sweet smile. It made Merlin almost forget that he was meeting Arthur and likely five or ten goons in a few hours.

* * *

Merlin knew that he could take Arthur with magic, but it occurred to him that if he was too obvious, he'd just get himself arrested. Not to mention that, according to Kilgharrah, he was supposed to be protecting Arthur.

Merlin wondered if past-Merlin was really much like him at all, because he fucking _revered_ Arthur. He didn't start writing the journal 'til after King Arthur died, just out of boredom, but still half of what he talked about was how great Arthur was. He called him a prat and a dollophead—good word, he'd use it someday—sometimes, but more often he just talked about how Arthur was his best friend. Merlin couldn't imagine a world, a millennium ago or not, where he and Arthur were friends. But in the past they were… maybe they could be again, if Merlin had to deal with him as much as he was starting to think he'd have to. Merlin didn't have much hope, but who knows? Sometimes things go better than you expect.

Lunch time rolled 'round and Merlin was just steeling himself to meet Arthur when he got clapped on the shoulder from behind. It was Lance.

"Hey," Merlin said, his voice embarrassingly soft. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm not letting you go meet him alone," said Lance. "So I'm going to be right outside, and if things are going badly, I'll come in."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't, but I want to. You're my mate, Merlin."

"So is he."

"Yeah, but this time, he's in the wrong."

"Then why aren't you coming in with me?" Merlin teased.

Lance grinned. "That's for your sake. We wouldn't want you looking like a coward, would we?"

"No, s'ppose not."

"Good, then let's go. Just… try not to be too mouthy, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah…"

* * *

The first surprise was the fact that Arthur was alone. It was a good omen, in Merlin's opinion. It didn't seem likely that the other footballers were hiding in the lockers, especially since many of them were behemoths, taller than any teenager had any right to be.

Arthur was standing with his arms crossed, a smirk on his face. Even in just a red t-shirt and faded blue jeans, Merlin could admit to himself that Arthur was kind of attractive. Or, more accurately, inhumanly gorgeous. His hair glowed soft gold as if light were shining on it even in the dim room. If he didn't have a rotten personality, he'd be worth coming out for just to try for a date.

"You came," Arthur said.

"I said I would."

"What was your name again?"

"Merlin."

"Ah, _Mer_lin," he said, seeming to test it on his tongue. "What kind of name _is_ that, exactly?"

"Dunno, I didn't name myself, did I?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. "So, if you've forgotten, I kind of have your entire life in the palm of my hand. I could uproot it on a whim if I so chose. So basically, that means you owe me. Big time."

Merlin's eyebrow went up and he crossed his own arms. "What the hell could you want from me?"

"See, just last semester, a boy named Will graduated. He was quite helpful to me. He cleaned up the boots after training, did my homework, came and did my chores…"

"Why would anyone do that?" Merlin inserted.

"Because I paid him well for it. But you… you owe me. Which means your payment for taking his job would be keeping your life here intact."

"So… you want me to be your slave."

"Essentially, yes."

"No fucking way," Merlin said immediately. "I'm a human-being, you bastard."

"A human being that likes his life the way it is, right?"

"Fine, tell on me. I'll survive somewhere else." Merlin turned on his heel and started to walk. Slowly, deliberately. He hoped he judged Arthur right, because it'd be really embarrassing if Arthur called his bluff.

"Alright, half the pay he got," Arthur relented. "Final offer, Merlin."

Merlin turned again. "I have work from three to eight every weekday."

"Then you'll have to clean up the football stuff before school, then head to my house after work."

"Am I allowed to have a life of my own?"

"I'll be paying you not to, remember? Plus, weekends are yours unless I have a project or something. Do you accept?"

Merlin knew he didn't have a choice, but he pretty much hated the sound of this. He'd rather have gotten the snot beat out of him than this new brand of torture.

In a moment of angry impulsion, he thought he'd mention that. "Wouldn't it just be easier to kick the shit out of me and be done with it?"

Arthur stepped closer, blue eyes looking black with sudden cruelty. "Would you like that better?"

"Yes."

Arthur looked a little surprised. "Really? You'd prefer me beating you senseless."

"Definitely."

After a moment, Arthur just barely smiled, shaking his head. "There's something about you, Merlin…" He kept staring, his gaze strangely perceptive for someone who was so obviously an idiot. "No, I'm not going to hurt you," he finally said. "I've seen your grades; it'd be a waste to beat your brain too much."

"Was that a compliment?" Merlin asked with a smirk.

"Don't get used to it."

A weird moment occurred where they were both smiling at each other, with something like vague fondness, and then simultaneously they both realised it and began frowning again, Arthur clearing his throat gruffly. "I'll pick you up from work today so you know where my house is, then you'll be expected to get there yourself from now on."

"Yeah, okay."

"So you're accepting?" Arthur asked again.

"Yeah, guess so. I must be mad."

"Or desperate."

"Probably both."

Another second of smiling before they both cut it out. They couldn't go almost liking each other, now could they? Merlin probably was only feeling the mild comradery because he spent all night reading a journal about how great Arthur was. But this wasn't the same man, of course.

"Go eat something," Arthur said. He looked Merlin up and down and added, "God knows you need it." And he walked out of the locker room.

"Thanks?" Merlin muttered, because it was almost being considerate, which was better than nothing.

* * *

After school, Merlin got he and Gwen to Albion. Lance was always there before him, because he had a free-period so he was able to start at 2:10—instead of 3:10 like Merlin.

This worked pretty well because now not only was he introducing Gwen and Lance, but he could tell them both the story at the same time so he didn't have to tell it twice. He wasn't sure exactly how much to tell… so he ended up saying everything except the reincarnation bit. He thought that might freak them out, especially since they themselves were both reincarnations. Plus, they might catch on to the fact that he was trying to set them up if they knew about the spark between Queen Guinevere (before she was queen) and Sir Lancelot (before he was a knight).

"The nerve he has," Gwen said when Merlin finished, "expecting someone else to do everything for him. It's not fair. How are you to get your own work done if you're doing his all the time?"

"I'll make it work," said Merlin. It would take a lot of Waking Potions from Gaius, but he'd get it all done. He had to. This wasn't just about him. It was about all magic-users, his kin. He couldn't fail.

"It's just all so hard to believe," Gwen noted. "Lance, did you know about this dragon of his?" she added.

"I met him once, actually."

"Why is that?" she asked with a smile.

"It was sort of chance. I happened to be with Merlin when the dragon started talking in his head."

"He can do that?"

"Some sorcerers can speak to each other in their minds," Merlin said. "I've only done it a few times, usually with Kilgharrah."

"But a dragon isn't a sorcerer," said Gwen.

"No," Merlin agreed, "he's much more powerful than that."

She looked at Merlin thoughtfully. "Sometimes, Merlin, you're so silly, and then sometimes you're so beyond your years. Like you're from another world."

It made Merlin blink in surprise. Another world… like maybe a dozen centuries ago?

"You're going to give him a big head," joked Lance. "but it's true," he added, elbowing Merlin affectionately.

"Well, I need to head home," said Gwen. "I'll see you tomorrow, Merlin. Nice to meet you, Lance."

She walked out, and Merlin watched Lance as his eyes followed her out the door. "Wow," he said the moment the door closed. "She's… she's… wow."

Merlin grinned. "Yeah, she is."

"You're not—" Lance said, and Merlin couldn't help but bark out a chuckle when he understood the other boy's meaning.

"With her? No, definitely not."

Merlin never considered the fact that Lance didn't know he was gay. He knew his biggest secret, the one that could get him arrested, but still didn't know his orientation. Somehow he thought Lance might have guessed, with how intuitive he was.

But just as he was thinking that, he saw that look in Lance's eye like he just might have realised the truth with Merlin's too-quick answer.

"She's… not your type?" he asked carefully.

"No, I guess not," Merlin replied, and Lance nodded. "She's lovely, but just a friend."

"Whatever you like… that's your business," Lance said, and Merlin nodded and smiled in way of thanks. Then after a moment, Lance grinned and said, "What about Gilli? He's kinda gangly like you."

"Oh, shut it," Merlin said, throwing a towel at Lance's face, and just like that, the tension was gone. "Oh, uh, I was just wondering," Merlin added, and Lance looked at him more seriously. "Is Lance a nickname?"

Lance's head tilted to the side and he looked surprised. "I don't know how you guessed that."

"And it's short for…"

"_Lancelot_," he admitted in a mocking voice. "Dunno what mum was thinking, naming me that rubbish. Seriously, how'd you guess? Nobody has before."

"Just a feeling."

Lance shook his head. "You're something else, Merlin."


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin kept telling himself that it was stupid to be nervous. He was going to a prat's house to do a prat's homework and laundry and whatever the hell else he wanted for half the pay any human deserved.

What about that should have made him anxious?

And still his guts were writhing around inside him, seeming to want to try to escape out his pores. His nerves were making him clumsier than usual. Lance noticed after he dropped one of the milk pitchers—for the third time in an hour. At least he hadn't dropped anything glass (yet).

"What's going on, Merlin?" asked Lance as he mopped up milk again.

"Nothing," Merlin replied almost automatically. He didn't often say what he was really feeling when somebody asked him what was going on. He'd just gotten used to the idea that people didn't normally care.

But Lance, of course, didn't apply to that general statement. He said, "Come on Merlin. You know you can talk to me."

Merlin looked up from his milky mess on the floor. "I don't really know," Merlin relented. "I just feel strange."

"Arthur's not nearly as bad as you think he is," Lance tried.

"Yeah," Merlin said, sounding less than believing.

"Really. Just give him a chance."

"You mean give him a chance while I'm working for him like a slave. Right."

Lance didn't say much after that.

Five minutes before close, Arthur showed up outside in his ridiculously nice car, leaning against the hood and staring through the window at Merlin, his eyes annoyingly intense.

"Does he have to look at me like that?" Merlin muttered. "I can't work any faster."

"He's like that."

"What's he thinking about so hard?" snapped Merlin.

"I don't know. But sometimes I think he's got more to think about than any of us even realise."

"What's a spoiled brat got to brood about?"

Lance looked at Merlin reprovingly for the fiftieth time that day. "Stop being so judgmental. I really thought you knew better than that."

So Merlin didn't speak about his frustrations any more during their work, because he was getting tired of the look on Lance's face when he did it—and worse, the feeling kind of like guilt he got every time Lance did it.

Arthur looked impatient, but he never knocked on the window or waved or anything, just kept staring right at Merlin like he was actually capable of complex thought—which he wasn't, most likely.

Merlin walked outside and Arthur said, "That took ages. What were you even doing?"

"There's this thing us common folk do called cleaning. You should look into it."

"Don't have to. That's what you're here for."

* * *

And so he was. That was what he did at Arthur's house—well, _manor_ was more accurate, but that was beside the point—just cleaned his room, did his laundry. Did a little of his homework. Arthur seemed busy the whole time, which was strange to Merlin. If Merlin was supposed to do all his work, then what was he working on?

Eventually, Merlin asked.

"I'm not paying you to ask questions that are none of your business," was Arthur's response.

He didn't say it coldly enough for Merlin to feel too bad about it, just in that pompous, annoyed way he said most things.

"Well you're not paying me enough to keep me quiet either."

Arthur looked up from whatever he was working on. "You don't seem to realise the power I have over you. You annoy me enough and I could easily get you kicked out of school, out of your job, everything."

"You could," Merlin agreed.

"Then why do you test it?"

Merlin met Arthur's eyes. "Because a friend of mine seems to have faith in the fact that you aren't a horrible person. I figure you making me your _manslave_"—he said it as a joke, but it wasn't quite as funny aloud—"isn't just cruelty. You sincerely need the help and didn't know how else to get it. So I'll help you, and you don't even have to pay me like we agreed. But I won't be anyone but me." Arthur stared at Merlin, looking satisfyingly astounded by the short monologue. He didn't seem to know what to say. So Merlin said, "I finished the list. I'll go home now, if that's okay." He wasn't sure why he asked, really. He wasn't _actually_ Arthur's slave. But he still waited for a response.

"Do you… need a ride?" asked Arthur after some hesitation.

"I'll make do."

"It's not really a problem. Well, that much."

Merlin barely smirked in response. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He went out the door before Arthur could say anything.


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin really didn't hate this whole working for Arthur business as much as he thought he would. Not that he liked it. But he didn't detest it, at least.

Arthur did try to pay him after the first week.

Merlin ripped the check up immediately and handed the pieces back to Arthur.

"I can't take this."

"Why not, you moron?"

"Because." Since he couldn't think of a better reason that he didn't accept it. He should have, but he couldn't bring himself to.

It never was brought up again.

Merlin got used to the job fairly quickly. Maybe too used to it, even.

"Merlin, want to come over after work?" asked Gwen.

"Got to go to Arthur's."

"Oh, come on, he'd give you one measly day off."

"Can't. He can't get it done on his own."

Her eyebrow went up. "Since when was that the reason you did this?"

Merlin blinked. "Well—I mean—you know him. He wouldn't be happy if I asked."

"Mm hmm…"

He had to explain it to Gaius pretty soon after it started, because he was gone so much. Gaius was understanding, but maybe a little concerned. He was a little more likely to take something like a destiny seriously than another high school student. Gwen wasn't thinking about it as something that could improve lives in the long run. And Merlin understood that. But Merlin couldn't afford to think like that. He'd known for a long time that he was going to have a destiny.

That was why he did this. There was nothing else to it.

Right?

* * *

"No way." Merlin said it flat out the moment he understood where Arthur was going with his request.

"Merlin, come _on_," Arthur said—not quite stooping down to begging, but sounding almost close to that—"You'd be here anyway on a Thursday, you'd just be doing… something different than normal."

"I work for you, sure, but I'm not actually a _servant_. I won't go around like a waiter, serving drinks and oysters! Not happening!"

"It's not quite like that," Arthur tried. "You wouldn't be going around to the other businessmen, just to me. You know. Keep my drink from running out."

Merlin's face certainly looked more affronted than it ever had, even though he couldn't see the face he was making. "Arthur, _no_! This is past what I'm willing to do. Get your own drinks!"

Arthur groaned. "_Mer_lin! If I have to sit through this stupid dinner and talk to all these stupid businessmen by myself, I'll go insane!"

Ah. Lightbulb. "So this isn't about me getting you drinks at all. You just don't want to be alone with the corporates."

"Well… I…"

"Okay, new deal. If you just admit that you want my company, I'll do it. I'll even wear the stupid tux," he added, gesturing to the suit Arthur had brought out—which was his bright way of bringing up the conversation in the first place, trying to bribe him with a very nice tuxedo.

"It's not _your_ company, it's just—"

Merlin fake-yawned. "Well, I'm getting _very_ tired," Merlin said. "I think I'll go home. Guess you won't see me tomorrow, since you'll be _busy_…"

"Merlin!"

"Bye, Arthur."

"I want you there, okay? I'd take you over all of them any day!"

Merlin grinned—the one that made anyone else on the planet smile with him, but only made Arthur roll his eyes. He took the tuxedo and draped it over his arm. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Merlin was even able to get his shift covered by Miranda, so after school, he went to the football pitch, since he didn't have anywhere else to go.

He was sitting on the bench, watching as the guys leisurely made their way onto the pitch from the lockers, when someone sat next to him, putting an arm around his shoulder. For a reason Merlin couldn't fathom, his stomach churned when he thought for a moment it was Arthur. But he looked over and saw a boy he'd never spoken to before—classically attractive face, scruff, laugh lines, long brown hair that looked both pleasantly mussed and like it belonged in a shampoo ad simultaneously.

"'Ey, aren't you the bloke who cleans our boots?" Irish accent, Merlin noticed.

"Er, yeah," Merlin said, a little embarrassed.

"That's real nice of you. Though I can't help but wonder why you do it. What, you got a crush on Arthur or something?" Merlin's eyes got all big, and he got ready to deny it furiously, and the guy grinned. "Merlin, don't you know when someone's joking with you?"

Merlin blinked at the boy, distracted from his panic/embarrassment. "You know my name?"

"Of course I do," he scoffed. "We've been in classes together since middle school. But from how baffled you are, you don't know mine. Gwaine." He put out a hand to shake, and with a smile, Merlin took it. He knew who this was now. Gwaine was a knight in the old stories of Emrys. A good friend of the past-Emrys, in fact. Maybe it could be that way now too. "Seriously though," he added, "what do you get out of cleaning our shit for us?"

"Maybe I just like hard work," Merlin said, smirking. "Or maybe I put poison in your boots and it's slowly killing you. Guess you'll never know, will you?"

Gwaine grinned again. "I like you," he decided. "Come to training more often."

And he was off with the others.

He watched the training with more interest than he thought he'd have. It was just football… but Arthur turned it into a well-oiled machine. Merlin felt silly, but after having finished the Emrys journal, and then reading it another two times for good measure, he couldn't help but imagine Arthur from more than a thousand years ago, a prince training his knights. Merlin suddenly figured that watching this wasn't so different from that. He gave them all his effort, did everything for them that he could, taught them what he knew. But he would always be a hundred times better than them all. And sure, he knew it, but he didn't brag. That much.

Merlin figured talking to Gwaine would be the only attention he'd get from any of the people on the team… but after training was over, Gwaine lead a few of the footballers over to where Merlin was sitting.

"Here's the kid that puts his sweat, tears, and evidently poison into cleaning our crap for us."

And Merlin got introduced to Leon, Percy, and Elyan.

Jesus. It took Merlin a long time to figure that one out. He'd been making all these comparisons between training knights and training footballers… but it wasn't until now that he realised that it was no coincidence that Lance and Gwaine were both footballers now and knights back in the stories. _All_ the footballers were knights. These ones that Merlin was being introduced to were Arthur's most trusted men, the Knights of the Round Table. All of which past-Merlin had been close to, actually.

Maybe he really had misjudged these guys.

Then Arthur came out.

"Oh, god, don't waste your time with Merlin, he's a complete idiot," he said. "Come on, Merlin, we got to go."

Merlin looked at him with an eyebrow up, ready to say about a million rude things, but the look on Arthur's face told him he wasn't in the mood for Merlin's sass. He was tired and not particularly enthusiastic about the evening with the entrepreneurs, investors, and other slimy business-folk. But he couldn't stay totally quiet, because he was Merlin, so he said, in the most mocking way possible, "Yes, _sire_." Mostly he got it from the Emrys-diary, but present-Arthur acted enough like a spoiled prince for it to apply here as well.

And Arthur's friends all tried not to laugh, they really did. But still there was chuckling. Gwaine wasn't even trying too hard to hide it.

"Merlin…" Arthur said warningly.

Merlin stood. "Oh, I know, we're in a hurry. Let's go. After you, your Highness."

More chuckles, a snort from one of them who just couldn't hold it in.

Arthur had that dangerous look on his face he got when he was about to shove Merlin's snark right back in his face.

"Well, Merlin," Arthur said, smiling and sounding pleasant in a way that made Merlin almost nervous about what evil thing was about to come from his mouth, "if you insist I'm a prince, maybe you should hold this." He threw his football bag at Merlin's head with more force than necessary. "Oh, and this," he added, sticking his backpack from school in Merlin's face. "Now come on," Arthur barked, walking away and not waiting for Merlin to follow.

The other guys looked a little awkward now, and more than a little confused.

"What, are you his servant?" asked the one called Elyan after a moment.

Merlin didn't know what to say, whether or not to lie. So he said, "More or less." And then he followed after Arthur—because Merlin didn't put it past him to leave him behind.

Merlin got to Arthur's car and threw the stuff in the trunk.

"You need to follow in your car?" asked Arthur.

Just like him, to assume. "I don't have one," he replied.

Arthur looked confused. "How do you get to my house every day? A cab?"

"I walk," Merlin replied.

More confusion. "Do you live close?"

"Arthur, we need to go."

Merlin wasn't sure if it actually worked to distract him, or if Arthur was just humouring him, but either way he was grateful when Arthur just got in the car without another word.

* * *

"You don't look terrible in that," Arthur decided, examining Merlin after he put the ridiculous monkey-suit on.

"Oh, thanks," said Merlin dryly.

"I mean, you've looked worse. Which isn't saying much. But can't you lose the glasses?"

"I need them to see, dollophead."

"Dollophead? That's not a word."

"Sure it is."

"Fine, if it's a word, then what's it mean?"

"In two words?"

"Yes."

"Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur took that moment to throw the first thing he could get his hands on at the first thing he could aim at—which resulted in an alarm clock getting hurled at Merlin's face.

"You could break that, dollophead!" Merlin teased.

"Then I'd just make you buy me a new one," Arthur retorted.

"Ha. Okay, now let's go."


	6. Chapter 6

The party was boring, as he figured it would be. Grumpy people talked about money and things. The most interesting thing that happened was that anyone was free to plug their iPod into the speaker system and it would play through the house. Some of them had strange taste in music.

Other than that, it was keeping Arthur lubricated with alcohol that made all this tolerable. Merlin didn't even get alcohol himself, because he had to be able to be in his right mind for Arthur's sake.

Merlin did get to eat the food at dinner though, and it was really good. Some catered Italian place that was basically astounding.

But most of the party was after dinner, in the front room of the Pendragon house, walking around and socialising.

Merlin didn't know when his bad feeling began. He really couldn't pinpoint it. Maybe he knew what would happen from the start. But even if he couldn't detect what began the pit in his stomach that meant something really horrible was going to happen, he knew when it got ten times worse.

He heard the businessmen talking. He'd been listening to a lot of them—whenever he wasn't beside Arthur—just for something to do. It was all boring, either about work or stupid gossip. But it was better than no talking at all, Merlin supposed. Arthur was too occupied talking to other men, making his rounds as a Pendragon had to. Merlin had to entertain himself somehow.

But then he overheard a certain conversation.

"Yes, she threatened Uther, right there in front of everyone."

"A son for a son, she said."

"Well, he'll be in prison for a long time, on that charge."

"Served the boy right, using magic so openly."

"But prison for twenty years over it? I don't know, seems overly harsh."

"You've heard Pendragon say it, sorcery's _evil_. I say it wouldn't have been out of the question to sentence him to death."

"But the woman, she was a sorcerer too. She swore revenge. I just wonder if young Arthur is in any real danger."

Maybe if he were a normal person living a normal life, he wouldn't have taken the conversation so seriously. But as it was, Merlin was a reincarnated sorcerer who 1) was told Arthur's life could be in danger and 2) was getting bad déjà vu because that story sounded way too similar to one of the very first ones in the Emrys diary.

The first attempt on Arthur's life that past-Merlin ever saw—and prevented—was at a party. Different than this, of course, but it was a different world back then. But the sorceress had disguised herself as a singer then. There were no singers at this party. There really weren't even many women. Merlin didn't know what to look for.

So he started with getting near Arthur.

"God, finally," he said when he caught Merlin's eye. "Champagne, I need it, please."

Wow. Please. He really was desperate. So he went and got a glass…

The music changed again, as it had a million times that night. Someone else plugging in their MP3 player.

It sounded strange, like another language.

Merlin knew what was happening quickly. Things slowed down. People got quiet. There were webs forming. Merlin covered his ears and looked around for the one that wasn't reacting to any of it.

A man, one he'd even eavesdropped on once during the night. He hadn't noticed Merlin. He/she was walking towards the figure slumping against a wall that was Arthur.

Merlin muttered a spell, and the chandelier fell on him. Yeah, okay, he was copying the Emrys-diary. If he saved Arthur, what did that matter?

Everyone woke up, looked confused, saw a crushed businessman who was now an old woman in a suit.

"Sorcery!" cried Uther.

Wow. Thanks for your wisdom. Merlin rolled his eyes.

Merlin seemed to be the only one who noticed.

Maybe because he expected it. It really was cheating for history to repeat itself like this when he had read a book that told him everything that was gonna happen before it did.

So even though Merlin wasn't actually faster than a bullet, when the woman under the chandelier took a shot at Arthur with a gun Merlin hadn't strictly seen—more sensed—Merlin was able to get over to him in time to push him over.

Merlin jumped on him, landing on Arthur's chest. Merlin's glasses tumbled to the ground. He was nearsighted, so all he could see was Arthur's face, everything else blurry. Merlin had pushed himself up from a lying position, but was still awkwardly on top of Arthur, one of his knees between Arthur's thighs. Arthur had sat up, and the thing that had frozen Merlin to the spot was the way Arthur was looking at him.

His eyes had gotten big, and his mouth had popped open. Merlin thought maybe it was surprise that Merlin saved his life that caused the expression.

Until Arthur said, "Merlin… your eyes…"

Merlin's first thought had been that Arthur had seen his eyes flash yellow, like it did when he did magic, but Arthur had been asleep when he dropped the chandelier on the sorceress, so he didn't think that was possible.

He didn't have long to wonder, because that was when everyone started pulling them up, asking if they were okay. Someone handed Merlin his glasses, and for some reason he didn't put them on. The person Merlin wanted to speak was Arthur, but he didn't say anything, just stayed close enough that Merlin could see him without his glasses, periodically looking at him and getting that same dumbfounded look every time. And Merlin's guts got even more twisted every time he did it, as he got a strange feeling he knew what was going on—even though it was impossible.

The rest of the night was a blur. There were police and people telling Merlin he did well, and other stuff Merlin didn't care about. Merlin and Arthur stayed nearly shoulder to shoulder through it all.

The men all started to leave. Everyone was gone. Uther Pendragon himself gave his thanks to Merlin, formally introduced himself (since Merlin had earned that now, even though he'd been at the man's house every week day for almost a month now), offered Merlin money and a job and a lot of other stupid crap. Merlin declined it all and he and Arthur went outside.

"You want a ride home, Merlin?" asked Arthur, his voice almost—if Merlin didn't know any better—timid.

Usually he'd say no. But with Arthur's strange face, and his tone of voice, and how tired Merlin suddenly was, and how late it was…

"Yeah, okay."

The drive was silent. Merlin was still fiddling with his glasses in his lap instead of putting them on like he should.

They parked, and Arthur looked at him. "You walk all this way?"

He almost sounded concerned. There wasn't much need to be. If Merlin minded walking, he'd use his teleportation spell. He walked because he liked to. But still, he was a little flattered that Arthur cared at all. And plus, he didn't mind making Arthur feel a little bad.

"We don't all have cars, Arthur."

Arthur nodded, still saying nothing. "Erm…" he started after a moment. "About tonight… You weren't totally… that wasn't… you know… You did good," he finished lamely.

"You could just say thanks like a normal person," Merlin suggested.

"Like you need a bigger head," Arthur snapped back.

And everything was back to normal.

Well, almost. Merlin still fiddled with his glasses and didn't get out. Arthur didn't tell him to get out either.

"You said… what were you saying… something about my eyes?" Apparently it was Merlin's turn to be unable to get a coherent word out.

He gazed at Arthur through his lashes as he looked at his lap and Arthur was glaring out the windshield.

"I don't know."

"Yeah you do."

"I was in _shock_, Merlin," Arthur said exasperatedly. "I almost _died_."

"Yeah, and I saved you. So can't you trust me enough to tell the truth by now?"

"It's not about _trust—"_

"Then what's it about?"

Arthur let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "I only meant… with that tuxedo and without your glasses… you're actually decently attractive." A possibly eternal bout of silence. "You know, for an idiot," he added.

"Why without my glasses?" Merlin asked. Arthur said nothing, and Merlin elbowed him in the side. "Oh, come on, just tell me," he said with a grin.

"Just, you know, the glasses make your eyes all small," Arthur relented. "They're, you know, blue. And your facial structure is actually—" He cut himself off when he glanced at Merlin and saw his smile. "Merlin, stop teasing me. I told you, I was in shock! I'm just telling you what I was thinking _then_, not _now_."

"Oh, of course, _sire_," Merlin said. For once, Arthur chuckled with him.

"Get out, Merlin," he said, but it sounded more companionable than commanding since he was still laughing a little.

So Merlin did get out, with a last smile as he shut the door. He walked up to the door to his flat and tried not to think about the comment Arthur had made.

Arthur thought he was good-looking.

Did that mean he was attracted to men? Merlin never dared to hope.

Well, not hope. Never dared to… not _hope_. That would imply Merlin wanted Arthur to be capable of liking Merlin. Which he didn't want.

The comment meant nothing. Yeah, Arthur was in shock at the time. That was it. He didn't really mean it, he just had been freaking out and Merlin was the only thing there to look at and had just…

And even if he wasn't in shock, and he really had meant it, Merlin didn't care. Not really. So what if Arthur Pendragon thought he had nice eyes and facial structure and looked good in a tux?

And if Merlin suddenly became fond of his contacts again, it was just a coincidence.

* * *

**Soooo that's all I got thus far. I'm still writing, but reviews definitely encourage me to write faster, so if you want to see more, review! And if you have any requests for the story, feel free to give them!**


	7. Chapter 7

Merlin hadn't gone to see Kilgharrah in a very long time. The last time was the night he learned about his destiny, so it had been almost two months now. He left Arthur's so late that he went to sleep right when he got home, unable to stay up any longer, and on the weekends he either worked, slept the day away, or caught up on the homework he neglected by always doing Arthur's instead. He kept expecting the dragon to speak in his head in order to ask where the hell he had gotten to, but he never did.

It was funny, because the past-Merlin had to go to the dragon all the time for advice… but the dragon's advice was right there in the Emrys diary, which gave him little need to pay any visits.

Then Arthur went away for the weekend, and that meant Merlin had his Friday off. So when he got off work, he went to see the dragon.

Partially it was a social visit, sure, but there was more to it than that. See, he was in this weird predicament where he knew way too much about what was to come, thanks to the Emrys journal… and one of the things that happened in the journal was when Kilgharrah tried to destroy the whole kingdom.

Merlin needed to know if that was yet another thing that was going to happen all over again.

"Young warlock!" cried the dragon when Merlin walked into the abandoned station and sat on the edge where he always did. "I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten about me! Or is it just that you've been busy with your _destiny_?"

If Merlin didn't know any better, he'd think Kilgharrah was making fun of him.

"Arthur's certainly a handful. The first attempt on his life was three weeks ago, and now _everyone_ seems to think they can go trying to kill him!" Merlin complained. "Not even just people getting back at his dad, either, just random fucking kids with chips on their shoulders! Like the guy from a rival football team who was wearing a watch that had little snakes on it that came to life! And don't get me started on the unicorn. Though that was kind of his fault…" Merlin sighed. "I think there have been more days where someone's attempting to kill him than there have been where he's safe. It's exhausting."

"Uther makes a great deal of enemies," replied Kilgharrah.

Merlin got quiet. Not a bad segue into what he really came here about. "Yes, he has. I could see a lot of people doing horrible things to get back at him. Even good people." Merlin said it pointedly enough, and the Great Dragon was perceptive enough, that Merlin never had to make a real accusation for the dragon to catch his drift.

The dragon sighed. "You have nothing to fear from me." Merlin just kept looking at him, not sure whether to believe him. So after a moment Kilgharrah continued, "I told you last time we met that I learned much from knowing the first Merlin. That is true." He was quiet for another long moment. "Though, in all honesty, I know there's no point in doing anything you don't want me to, because you know you're a Dragonlord as much as I know."

"But… is my father dead? Past-Merlin met his father."

Kilgharrah's silence was enough for Merlin to know the answer to that.

"So I'm already a Dragonlord," Merlin guessed.

"The last all over again. I thought another would never live again, until you came back. So I know that I could never try to find my revenge, even if I wanted to. But in reality, I no longer desire that. I am not a mindless beast."

Merlin nodded, now satisfied. It was nice to know at least one person—being, whatever—in his life could be trusted. Because it was a curse to know so much. Someday, Merlin knew that Gilli from the coffee shop was going to become a danger. He knew that if he ever fell for a particularly beautiful sorceress that he rescued from a cage, she was cursed to be a murderous monster. He knew that if Arthur had some sister he didn't know about, she was going to go bad.

Merlin couldn't trust a soul. Not really. The knights. Gwen.

And Arthur. If he got anything from the Emrys diary, it was that he could trust Arthur.

"I don't understand," Merlin finally said.

"And what is it you do not understand, Merlin?"

"Everything this time is going essentially the same way it did back then. Sure, I haven't met any Mordred or Morgana, thankfully, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time. It's so similar that I can predict most things before they happen… So how is this going to be any different than last time? Won't I just fail again?"

"Merlin, you are not only coasting through the same life twice. You must make changes in order for the outcome to change."

"But I don't know what to do differently! I don't know what I did wrong!"

"Don't save so many people from dying, for starters," said the dragon—though he seemed to be mostly teasing.

"But what if I fail again? There's no way I will get another chance."

The dragon looked thoughtful. "I think that when the time comes, you'll know what to do."

Merlin sure hoped so.

He sat in the station after that until past midnight, hardly talking at all. Just basking in that presence again, the one of someone who was like him. Since he got so little of that lately. He felt so _apart_ from everyone.

He'd always been different. He just hadn't always been able to feel it like he did now.

* * *

Arthur didn't technically say anything about Merlin not wearing his glasses anymore. He didn't mention it the day after, or the week after. He never complimented Merlin on his looks again.

But Merlin couldn't help but get this weird feeling that Arthur _had_ noticed. And he wondered why Merlin stopped wearing them.

It wasn't until Merlin wore them again that he had that confirmed.

"Four eyes again?" said Arthur.

"I ran out of contacts. I have to pick up more today. Why, you like me better without them?" he joked.

"Like I care," Arthur scoffed.

"You're not actually a very good liar," said Merlin matter-of-factly.

"Coming from you! You couldn't keep a secret if your life depended on it!"

Merlin somehow kept himself from choking out a laugh (by some miracle).

* * *

Merlin was used to living like this by now. It had been nearly three months since this all started, and being busy all the time and saving Arthur's stupid life was just a part of how he lived. It wasn't strange, just a fact.

That didn't stop it from grating on him, wearing him down until he felt like a fraction of who he once was. He was just… tired. So tired. He was risking his stupid life every other day and got no credit and he was never with his friends because he didn't have the time and when he saw them, as infrequent as that was, he couldn't appreciate it because he was too exhausted.

Gwen, Lance, and Gaius were the only ones that were perceptive enough to notice, but they were also the ones that knew there was nothing to be done about it, so they didn't really try.

Merlin had never felt so alone, even when he was literally _never_ alone anymore.

It was finals week, before they all had time off for Christmas. He was with Arthur, helping him study—since tests were the only time when he couldn't have someone else do his work for him.

"… and that makes Iago one of the worst villains in any of Shakespeare's plays," Merlin was explaining to an Arthur that hardly seemed to be listening. He'd been distracted all day, but that didn't stop Merlin from trying.

It was confirmed that he hadn't heard any of Merlin's talk about _Othello_ when Arthur next spoke. "I've been thinking."

"Oh god. Not that again."

Arthur punched him playfully—and painfully—in the arm, but otherwise made no response before continuing, "That maybe I need to find someone else to… you know. Do what you do."

Merlin blinked at Arthur, frankly stunned at the feeling like he'd been punched in the stomach at the words. What had Merlin done wrong? He literally risked his skin for the clotpole day in and day out and, what, he was _firing_ him?

Merlin tried to keep his face neutral. "Why did you decide that?" he asked monotonously.

Arthur looked Merlin in the eye for a long moment, and Merlin became sure that in that moment Arthur could see everything he was feeling, even the things he'd never bothered to notice before, like Merlin being completely protective of Arthur in a way nobody was with someone who was just a friend, let alone just a dude you did homework for.

"I'm obviously making you miserable, and I don't like that hanging on my conscience. So… I'll find someone with nothing better to do with their time. After this semester is over… you can just live your life. I won't tell on you, I promise."

Merlin didn't know what to say. He was so irrationally upset by what Arthur was saying, so overwhelmed by the unnecessary stab of rejection, that he didn't even know how to react.

So he said, "Okay." And he didn't bring it up again. So Arthur was firing him. So his destiny was going to be a little hard to fulfill—or, more accurately, impossible—when Arthur wasn't around all the time.

Awesome.


	8. Chapter 8

It was strangely quiet that week, nobody attempting to kill Arthur when he wasn't paying attention for five whole days. It was a miracle.

Merlin even had no work that week, since both he and Lance asked for it off so they could study.

So Merlin's schedule was more open than it had been in ages.

And Merlin hated every second of it.

Every second of every day brought Merlin to the moment when Arthur was going to tell him he was done.

So of course, Merlin's mind went and found every single little thing it liked about Arthur, that he was going to miss.

How Merlin knew all of Arthur's little expressions, which meant he knew what it looked like when he didn't like someone… and because of that, Merlin knew that each and every time Arthur was teasing him, even though he looked sour, his eyes looked much like they did when he was talking to his closest football friends. His most trusted knights.

How Arthur actually had a million and three things to do all the time, but never truly complained. See, Uther was in a lot of business with a lot of people, and Arthur was expected to inherit all of it when Uther was no longer around. It was the reason he couldn't do it all on his own. How could he handle high school work _and_ real life work at the same time? And yes, he enlisted help, but when Merlin expected him to complain about all he had to do, he would say it was his duty and his honor, because the things he did helped people in the city and that mattered to him.

Arthur was really rather noble, for being such a prat all the time.

Merlin was going to miss his stupid crooked-toothed smile, his stupid ridiculous temper that caused Merlin more than one blunt-force-trauma-induced headache… basically everything, actually. When had Merlin gotten so fond?

Why did Merlin literally feel like his heart was broken at the thought of it all coming to an end?

As Merlin thought all this, he walked numbly to the place where he knew Arthur and his friends all talked after school. He didn't usually go there, but this time, he figured a goodbye was in order. So he went, wondering as he did if he would even be welcome. Would Arthur look at him in disgust and ignore him? Would everything go back to how it was before, in the world where Merlin and Arthur didn't exist on the same plane of reality? Where they would have no reason to even get a good look at one another, let alone speak?

Merlin didn't know what he would do if that was what happened.

Arthur's friends were there, Leon, Gwaine, Elyan, and Percy. Lance was there too, actually, which made Merlin feel just a little better about coming over.

He got a warm greeting from everyone there, Gwaine mussing up his hair and Percy then using it as an armrest—since he was ridiculously tall and could manage that.

But it didn't matter what _they_ did. It mattered what _Arthur_ did.

And Arthur certainly was strange. He looked Merlin in the eye, but said nothing. Did nothing. Didn't really acknowledge he was there, not aloud.

Merlin was really afraid now. He wasn't welcome.

Small talk about breaks ensued, and one by one everyone was leaving.

Until only he and Arthur were left.

They kept looking at each other, neither of them seeming to have any idea what was an appropriate goodbye.

And then Arthur spoke. "I don't get it."

"Get what?" asked Merlin dully.

"You," Arthur specified. Which was really not specific at all. Merlin just looked at him funny, waiting for him to elaborate. "I told you you're free, that I'm done blackmailing you, and you're more depressed than you were before!"

It was then that it occurred to Merlin that he couldn't just let this happen. Arthur was wrong, and Merlin wasn't going to just sit back and watch as his destiny got destroyed… along with a tentative friendship that Merlin had no intention of losing.

"I never wanted to be free!" Merlin replied irritably. "There wasn't a second in the last few months where I ever wanted you to tell me to stop working for you. And I can't really imagine a life where I'm not around, helping you. I don't want that. At all."

Arthur looked sincerely confused. "But you've been acting—"

"I'm tired, Arthur. That's all it is. I work all day, and then I go to your house until maddening hours of the morning, and then I wake up barely two hours after I went to bed in the first place. I have my weekends, sure, but I'm so fucking tired from my whole week that I just go home and sleep all day, and get my own homework done." He paused for a moment. "It's not that I don't want to keep helping you. I do. I just… I'm just one person."

Merlin was quite sure that 'sympathy' was a look he'd never seen on Arthur's face. Not until now. He was quiet for a very long moment. Then he said, "I never considered you were doing so much."

"You're not very good at thinking about people other than yourself, Arthur."

He looked truly guilty, and Merlin almost wanted to take it back, because it wasn't completely fair. He was a busy person too, after all, and none of it was for him. But Merlin couldn't bring himself to feel too bad.

"Well I don't know what to do," Arthur finally said. "Whether you like it or not, if it does this to you, you can't keep doing it."

Merlin really was just thinking aloud when he said it—he didn't mean anything by it. "I would honestly take working for you over my actual job any day.

But Arthur took it seriously. He got this look on his face like he had the most brilliant idea.

"Merlin! That's it! Here's what we do. Just quit the other job and work just for me!"

Merlin looked at Arthur like he was the biggest idiot he'd ever known. "And pull money out of my ass? I need that job. I send money to my mother, I save it up for university—"

"Then I'll pay you. Whatever you get at your job now a week, I'll pay you that much. More, if you want."

Merlin was silent. "What?" he finally asked incredulously.

"Merlin, I'm basically _made_ of money. If there's one thing I'm not short on, it's that. I could easily pay you for what you do. You deserve it, really. So what do you say?"

Merlin knew that he would miss Albion Coffee House…

But not nearly as much as he would miss Arthur if he chose the other way around.

In the end, it wasn't really a question.

"I need to put in my two weeks then."

"Well it's okay, you can have the break off anyway."

"Right," Merlin said. "I can't believe you even _thought_ about firing me. You'd be hopeless without me."

"I'm starting to wonder why I thought this was a good idea."

"Because I'm invaluable," Merlin said.

"You're an idiot."

"You don't even know how much I do for you."

"Right."

"Really, you don't."

"Shut up, Merlin. Do you want the time off or not?"

"You wouldn't survive."

"I'll seriously kill you."

"No you won't."

And somehow, even though it felt like they were arguing, they were both grinning at each other.

"Someone's got to do your laundry for the next two weeks," Merlin finally said in response to Arthur's question. "You'd smell like a stable after that long without me around."

"You're a moron."

"And you're a dollophead."

And the two bickered all the way to Arthur's car, and without any words being said about it, Arthur gave him a ride home.

Maybe things were going to be different now.

Merlin had a good feeling.


	9. Chapter 9

"It's going to be strange, working here without you."

It was Merlin's last day at the coffee shop. Lance had been acting like it was an ordinary day—so much so that Merlin thought he had forgotten. He was too sad about it to even remind Lance…but then he said this and Merlin realized he hadn't forgotten after all.

"It will be strange for me too," Merlin mused. "I've worked here as long as I've been in Camelot… but this is my destiny. This is what everything in my life has been leading up to."

"And you're happy when you're with Arthur," Lance added.

Merlin couldn't tell you why, but he felt his cheeks get hot. "Well… maybe a little," he admitted.

"I never said 'I told you so'."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Well then you must get your chance. Tell me how wrong I was about Arthur, that he really _was_ a good guy all along…"

"Was I?"

Somehow, Merlin hadn't heard Arthur come in. How long had he been there?

"Don't you know sarcasm when you hear it?" asked Merlin.

"Like you have the brain capacity to be sarcastic," Arthur muttered. Before Merlin could be indignant about it, he added, "So I talked to your boss."

Merlin blinked. Talked to him? About what?

"See, I know you've been tired lately from being overworked, so it's up to you… but you have the option of staying here and only working on the weekends. If you don't like the idea of not working here at all."

Merlin tilted his head. "I suggested that to him and he said that he needed someone who could work more hours."

"Merlin, you'll never learn, will you?"

"Learn what?"

"I'm Arthur Pendragon. I get what I want."

Merlin looked at him with a brow up for a moment, but then he grinned. "Putting in so much effort for me… it's as if you've grown fond."

Arthur spluttered for a moment. "I—you—coming from _you_! Who I just overheard _praising_ me to your co-workers!"

"I told you, it was sarcasm." But Merlin really was grateful, so he tacked on, "But thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Arthur muttered. "See you after work."

Merlin was grinning as he watched Arthur leave, and then he turned to Lance.

And Lance had the strangest look on his face. Like he had made a baffling realization.

"What?" Merlin asked.

"I've never really seen you two together when you aren't at school."

"Yeah…?"

"And you're…" Lance shook his head. "Maybe I'm imagining it."

"Imagining what?" Merlin asked, a little irritated.

"Well… fond's a bit of an understatement."

Maybe Merlin shouldn't have understood so immediately what Lance meant by that. It would have been less suspicious if he had been confused—but no, he knew what Lance was implying right on.

"Come on, he's Arthur. I can't feel that way about him."

"Uh huh…"

Merlin proceeded to spend the rest of the shift talking about all the reasons he could never like Arthur.

Strangely enough, Lance only seemed more certain his guess was right the longer it went on.

* * *

After work, Merlin showed up at Arthur's door as Arthur was leaving.

"Oh," he grumbled. "I'm sorry, you must not have gotten my text."

Merlin's eyebrows pulled together and he took out his phone. The text read: Going out tonight. No need to come by.

"Where're you going?" asked Merlin.

"Doesn't matter."

Merlin might have let it go… except Arthur seemed strangely morose. Maybe even upset about something.

"Arthur? Is something wrong?"

He rolled his eyes. "Merlin, it's none of your business, so stay out of it. Father's waiting in the car."

He started to stalk away, and Merlin watched him go. But after a moment, he said without really meaning to, "I'm here for you, Arthur. Not just for work. For anything. Just so you know."

And Merlin began walking down the street.

After twenty seconds, a car pulled up next to him. The passenger window rolled down to reveal Arthur. "You walked all this way," he said. "Might as well let you come."

Merlin grinned and got into the back seat, greeting Uther a little timidly. He still had no idea where they were going, but there was a bouquet of flowers on the seat beside him. He tried to think of a time in the Emrys journal that was anything like this, but he was drawing a blank.

Then they pulled into the parking lot… of a hospital. Merlin wanted to ask what was going on, but something about how somber both Arthur and his father were being made him hold his tongue.

He walked beside Arthur as the three men made their way through the building. They knew which room to go to without asking anyone.

The walked inside and there was a young woman in the bed. She was probably close to their own age. She had dark hair and pale skin. She was amazingly beautiful.

She seemed to be sleeping, but as they were in a hospital, there was obviously something more sinister going on.

Merlin didn't ask anything for a long time. Didn't say a word. Arthur and Uther just sat by the bed in silence, and Merlin stood by the door.

An immeasurable amount of time later, Uther stood. "Will you be getting a cab?" He asked it as if he already knew the answer.

"Yeah. See you."

So then Uther was gone, and it was just the two of them.

Then Merlin asked. "Who is this?"

Arthur started, as if he'd forgotten Merlin was even there.

"I can't believe you're capable of being quiet for that long."

"Is that you avoiding the question, or are you going to answer?"

Arthur met Merlin's eyes, and then looked back at the girl. "She's my sister."

It was a good thing that Arthur wasn't looking anymore, because Merlin was sure the look on his face was obviously unhappy. Or maybe afraid was a better description.

Merlin had thought that, somehow, she hadn't made it into the reincarnation cycle. He thought he'd gotten lucky.

"Morgana?" Merlin asked aloud without meaning to.

Arthur looked back at him. "Yes, actually. How did you know that? She's been in the hospital since before you moved here."

Merlin thought fast—something Arthur probably thought him incapable of doing. "I just remembering hearing someone mention a Morgana Pendragon. I didn't think about it until now."

"Huh," Arthur muttered. "Well, she was rather popular back then. I suppose people would remember her."

"Your sister, huh? Doesn't look much like you," Merlin said in passing. He had to figure out what was different in the journal than it was here.

"Half-sister. We have different mothers, and I happen to take after mine. At least the pictures make it seem so."

"You never knew your mother?"

Arthur turned around, and he looked for a moment like he might tell Merlin to mind his own business again, but then he sighed. "No. She died in child birth."

"I'm sorry." Arthur said nothing, so Merlin continued, "What happened to her? Morgana, I mean."

Arthur was quiet for a long time again, deciding if he was going to speak. He seemed to be in an honest mood, because he finally said, "She helped this boy get away from my father. A sorcerer. Actually, I helped too, but father doesn't know that. Anyway, they got in a fight about it… and somehow she hit her head. Father swears it was an accident… but sometimes I wonder."

"But she's been here for years now?"

"Yes. Almost five." He paused. "At this point, there's probably no way she's going to wake up. Not when she's been gone this long. But money isn't an issue, so father doesn't want to pull the plug."

No, Merlin couldn't assume he was going to get that lucky, not now that he knew she existed. She'd wake up. Somehow. A miracle, sorcery, something. And when she did, she was going to cause Merlin a lot of issues.

And there was the reason she went into the coma in the first place. She saved a sorcerer, a boy. It had to be Mordred. Another thing for Merlin to watch out for.

He'd been stupid thinking he'd have it easier than past-Merlin. Why would he? With the good that was given a second chance, the bad was as well. Merlin could make the land of Albion that he failed to in his past life… but he could also fail even worse than before. It's not like past-Merlin did no good in his life at all. Morgana lost, in the end, dying at past-Merlin's hand. Guinevere was a queen that at least tolerated magic. He managed to save Kilgharrah from death.

What if Merlin failed so entirely that nothing good at all came out of his life? It was possible.

Merlin had been coasting along up until now, and he couldn't afford that.

But now here was Morgana Pendragon, right here. Not only there, but completely defenseless. It would be too easy for Merlin to ensure she never woke up. He could probably do it with Arthur sitting right there, and everyone would just think her state worsened. Which happened to coma patients. Probably.

And if she never woke, then who would Mordred serve when he eventually turned on Arthur? Who would be his greatest foe?

The Merlin of today could succeed where the Merlin of yesterday failed. Let Morgana die… to save Arthur. Because saving Arthur was what mattered.

Merlin looked at the girl.

The peacefully resting girl. She looked so… innocent. She hadn't even been awake since she was, what, thirteen?

Killing her… it was like killing a child.

_No_, Merlin thought to himself. _Don't make excuses for her. Just do it. _

He took a deep breath. And—

"We didn't know we were related, in the beginning," said Arthur. The speaking distracted Merlin, and he couldn't help but listen. "In fact, Morgana still doesn't know. Father told me last year."

"Unless she can hear you now," Merlin muttered.

"You think that's true? That coma patients can hear what's around them?"

"Sometimes, perhaps."

Arthur shrugged. "Anyway, we never knew. Father was just her guardian, we were told. And we used to flirt a little. I don't think we ever really liked each other, but she was pretty, she thought I was handsome, so we flirted. Good thing it never went anywhere, because that would be really disgusting." He chuckled. "But even though we never knew, she was like a sister to me. When I was being an arrogant prat… she set me straight."

Merlin was watching Arthur as he stared at the sleeping Morgana. When she died, he'd be heartbroken.

_No, Merlin, don't listen_, he thought. _Arthur doesn't know what she'll become. And if he did know, he'd thank you for this. _

"I miss her. I miss her all the time. I just hope… that someday a miracle will happen and she'll wake up."

The guilt was pooling in his stomach like acid, burning at his insides.

Merlin sighed. Damn it. He couldn't do it. At least not with Arthur sitting right there. He could never intentionally hurt Arthur.

"Don't put too much stock in miracles," Merlin said, sitting down dejectedly.

Arthur didn't reply, or say anything else. The two of them sat in silence for a long time, just looking at her.

Without any particular cue, Arthur stood, so Merlin did too.

"Getting a cab?" Merlin asked.

"Actually… well, you seem to walk halfway across London all the time. I thought I'd try it your way."

Merlin grinned. "Want company?"

"Well, I must protect you as we walk. I have no choice but to bring you with me."

"Uh _huh_."

They walked for a few minutes before Arthur said, "Thank you. For being there today. Your presence was… you know, wasn't unbearably annoying.

"Not a problem, Arthur. I'm here for you. Whatever you need."

Arthur peered over at him, and then at the cement beneath his feet. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you have a pretty astounding sense of loyalty."

"But?"

"But the only thing astounding about you is your unending stupidity, so that can't be right."

"Unending stupidity? Are you sure you're not getting the two of us mixed up?"

Arthur knocked him with his shoulder playfully and Merlin laughed.

"So," Arthur said. "You work tomorrow?"

"No."

Arthur looked over. "The shop didn't give you any shifts this weekend?"

"I quit. Entirely."

"Oh. Work too much?"

"No. That's not it."

Arthur was still looking at him with his eyebrows pulled together.

"I just figured I should be available to you whenever I can be. Weekends included. You don't even have to pay me for it," Merlin continued, wondering if that would be a problem. "I just…" Merlin wasn't sure what sentimental thing he was going to say, but he chickened out. "You're so hopeless without me."

"At this point, I might as well give you a guest bedroom," Arthur muttered. He was being sarcastic, of course, but Merlin didn't dislike the idea. He had to be near Arthur as often as possible.

You know, to protect him.

Too soon, they were at Arthur's door.

"I could give you a ride from here," Arthur suggested.

"What's another trek across London at this point?" Merlin joked.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "G'night, Merlin."

"See you tomorrow?"

Arthur met his eyes, looking a little baffled. "You sure about that? Don't you see me enough?"

"I don't mind. Unless you mind seeing me." Merlin said it lightly, but somehow Arthur's answer to that really mattered to him.

"Well. I don't have much choice, do I?" Arthur teased… but they were looking at each other, and seemed unable to look away.

Merlin didn't know what to think. This wasn't a part of the Emrys journal. Past-Merlin… well, he seemed to have secret romantic thoughts that even he ignored. But this was different. He and Arthur had the same bond as way back then… but now being gay wasn't out of the question. Was even rather ordinary.

Merlin should have known moments like this were bound to happen. Where his guts twisted into knots as he stared into those eyes. And Arthur stared into his right back, the ones no longer hidden by glasses that Arthur caught himself on more frequently as of late.

But Merlin _couldn't_ feel this way. Not about Arthur. He didn't know how, but it would ruin everything.

So quickly, he said, "Goodnight. See you."

And he turned and nearly ran from the scene in his haste to get away.


End file.
